


Blackout

by dustyfluorescent



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Magic Revealed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-11
Updated: 2014-02-11
Packaged: 2018-01-11 22:15:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1178589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dustyfluorescent/pseuds/dustyfluorescent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Their first sign that something is wrong is when every single electric light in the city flashes on at once, and then off a few seconds later. Arthur doesn't know what's going on. Merlin has a pretty good idea. Things are changing fast and not necessarily for the better, and there is no more room for Merlin's secrets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blackout

**Author's Note:**

> There are a lot of things in this fic that I have not tried before. Yes, happy things, too. I was partially inspired by X-Men, although not quite enough to call it a fusion (I will write that X-Men fusion eventually, though, I can't get the thought out of my head now!) and partially by walking around Glasgow taking photos of graffiti, cranes, and muddy back alleys. Yes, I have a problem.

Their first sign that something is probably wrong is when every single electric light in the city flashes on at once, and then off a few seconds later. It’s getting dark, the sun has almost set, and with that flash of artificial light the city turns from a relatively busy, completely normal early Tuesday evening to a blue haze of unrealness where everything has stopped, nobody is in a rush anymore, and a shimmering veil of unease rests over them all. A salty wind comes their way. A whirlwind of seagulls takes off by the pier and flies, screaming, over the cranes, towards the sea. One of the boats on the river, out of place, moves on, and a shadowy figure disappears belowdecks. 

“Fuck,” says Merlin. “They are controlling the electricity. I wonder if...” He swallows the rest of that sentence, clamps his mouth shut like he thinks he may already have said too much.

Arthur very nearly swallows his tongue in surprise. Everyone else is gaping at the sudden flash of light and the darkness that is darker because of it, not really knowing what’s hit them and what it could possibly mean, and Merlin is already talking about a _they_ , like it's not just some ordinary blackout. Like he knows. And he just might. That kid was always too smart for his own good, too keen to put his nose into other people’s business. 

“They are?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Merlin shakes his head and looks across the river, eyes stopping at the boat, only for a fraction of a second but long enough for Arthur to notice. “We need to get out of here.”

“How, though?” asks Arthur, and he feels stupid and slow like he sometimes does with Merlin, but he pushes that aside because this is important and he doesn’t understand. “And why are they doing _this_?”

“To make people scared. To warn me. And by extension, obviously, you.”

“Me?” 

Arthur is not sure what to make of that. He didn’t know he was important, not really, not important enough for someone to turn the lights off in the whole city. He didn’t know either of them were. Merlin was always a bit quirky and out there and a bit too good for Arthur, and Arthur always had his stuff with his father and his family that he actively ignored repressed fought away but by the end of it he had always thought they were nothing special, either way. Everybody has their own stuff. That’s what Merlin would say to him when he couldn’t breathe for all the sadness inside him. _Everybody has their stuff, Arthur, it’s okay to have your own._

“I’ll explain it once we’re somewhere safe. Now come on, we really can’t stay here. I’m sorry about this, Arthur, I really am.”

“Why?”

“You’ll see. I just want you to know I love you, yeah?”

Arthur’s face melts to a smile at the sight of Merlin’s pleading look full of tenderness, but his heart is beating a bit too fast out of his chest and he is nervous and uneasy and he doesn’t know what Merlin is apologising for but it scares him and they don’t have much time, Merlin wants to get away and there is a sort of urgency about the way he holds himself now so Arthur pushes his soppy thoughts away for now. Somewhere safe, Merlin had said. They have to get away.

They run through a labyrinth of back alleys and fire escapes, Merlin dragging Arthur behind by the hand, whispering _faster_ and _this way_ and _fuckfuckfuck_ under his breath. Arthur’s not sure if he even knows he is doing it out loud, always so cool and calm and collected and ready with his words and confident, unraveling by the edges now, eyes wild, hair a mess. They hide behind a bin from apparently nobody if Arthur’s senses are to be trusted, pressed against the slimy, stinking side of it, Merlin’s hand pressed over Arthur’s mouth, trembling. If Merlin is scared, Arthur should be, too. He is. He just doesn’t know what they are running from.

That almost makes it worse, really. He knows this is bad, but he doesn’t know what to watch out for, what it is that is casting this shadow of impending doom over them. 

When they finally slip in through a near invisible door in a back alley that opens for them before Arthur even knows it’s there and then closes behind them and fades into the wall (or maybe it’s just the darkness and the stress of it all that makes it seem that way, but something about the _magic_ of it licks up Arthur’s spine and makes him shiver), Merlin slumps against Arthur and takes a shuddering breath, his hands scrabbling to find something to hold onto. 

“This is bad, isn’t it,” Arthur whispers.

“A bit bad, yeah,” Merlin says. He’s all choked up with unshed tears, and Arthur doesn’t know what to do with it. His Merlin, always so strong, always so happy and cheeky and full of life, and now it’s like he can’t even breathe. Arthur wraps his arms around him and holds on for dear life. Arthur was never one for words but he can be there for Merlin. That’s the least he can do after all Merlin has done for him.

“Evening, lovebirds.”

It’s a voice Arthur doesn’t recognise, but judging by the way he goes rigid in Arthur’s arms, Merlin is no stranger to whoever is speaking. The voice comes with flickering candlelight that plants ghost-like shadows on the walls. Arthur turns to look. The man smiles. His face lit from beneath with trembling light. There is something about him that makes Arthur uneasy.

“Gwaine,” Merlin says. “Sorry to have crashed in like this.”

“Not to worry, doll. Figured you were coming when the lights stopped working.”

“Is it okay if we stay for now?”

“Obviously. You might have to share the couch but if that doesn’t bother you I’m not gonna kick you out. Tea?”

“Yes please.”

Merlin takes Arthur’s hand and looks at him with a tired smile. He gently squeezes his fingers, and Arthur squeezes back. _I love you_. 

“Let’s go sit down,” Merlin says. “I have some explaining to do.”

He looks so tired that Arthur wants to say no, you’re alright, we can talk tomorrow, but there is a sort of urgent restless energy about Merlin that makes Arthur realise this is probably very important. He is also very confused and a bit scared and he wants in on it, he wants to help, whatever it is. So he nods and they go in the kitchen and sit at the table, and Gwaine leans against the counter, just a shadow in the darkness that spreads outside the glow of the candles on the table. Arthur looks at Merlin through the light, face tired, gaunt, full of shadows, and he bites his lip and looks down and wonders what he should say. He doesn’t know what to think of Gwaine being there but it’s his house - probably - and Merlin doesn’t seem bothered so he lets it go. 

“Arthur,” says Merlin, his voice smaller and younger than Arthur is used to. “I’m a sorcerer.”

Arthur laughs. “No you’re not.” 

He says that, except that he knows Merlin is not lying. He does. He wouldn’t, not about something like this, and he’s a crap liar anyway, but there is nothing else Arthur could say to that. He needs his moment of denial, and it’s okay because this is the reaction they expect from him, it’s what he expects from himself. It had never occurred to him, not even briefly. Not Merlin. Except that Merlin is not lying. 

“I really am though. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before, I didn’t…” Merlin shuts up. For once, Arthur doesn’t need to tell him.

The silence grows. The darkness around them flutters and the flame of the candle grows big and then almost disappears. Shakes. Goes on burning. Gwaine shifts but doesn’t go away. Arthur can hear the rustle of his clothing, the rhythm of his breathing. He is definitely not making tea. He’s watching Arthur, carefully, like he’s evaluating him. That’s what his invisible gaze feels like on his skin.

“Arthur…” Merlin says, and then falls silent again. Arthur can see him ripping his fingernails like he always does when he’s nervous. 

“Yeah, I. Right.” 

Arthur bites his lip. He doesn’t know what to say. What little comes out is all wrong and he doesn’t know how to make it better, how to make Merlin understand what he means. He was never much of a talker, never knew how to let his thoughts out of his head and upon the people of the world so that they might understand what he means instead of hearing what it sounds like he’s saying, and he doesn’t know how to solve this any better than he could have solved what he called “the Merlin problem” back before they were dating without Merlin’s enthusiastic help. It’s Merlin’s help he needs now, too. He looks at him, at his face, a bit scared and a bit insecure and half hidden in flickering shadows, and hopes that Merlin can see on his face what he could never say out loud. Things like _I love you so much and forever will_ and _I can’t believe you didn’t tell me_ and _I can’t believe I didn’t know_ and _I don’t want you to change, I want you to always be you_.

The silence grows suffocating, like it’s sucking the air out of Arthur’s lungs and turning it into something toxic he can’t breathe, making the air around him ring with the words he is not saying and how everyone is listening for how it’ll end, waiting for him to make a fatal mistake.

“Please don’t make me say things,” Arthur blurts out. “You know I’ll fuck it up anyway.”

Merlin swallows. He rips off a hangnail a bit too violently, and Arthur can see the blood for a fraction of a second before Merlin hisses and sucks on it like people do when they make their fingers bleed. Arthur reaches out to Merlin before thinking about it, frowning, a bit annoyed that Merlin’s hurt himself again, and his heart on its side somehow in the fear that Merlin might absurdly be worse off than he seems.

“Alright, love?” he asks, and Merlin nods and smiles around his finger and it’s so normal for a second that when Merlin’s face falls and Arthur’s arm drops and it’s not normal at all and Arthur wonders what it is that makes Merlin _one of them_ it feels twice as horrible and strange and Arthur looks away when Merlin blinks and squeezes his eyes shut, pretends that the tears clinging to his eyelashes are there because he ripped his finger and not because of the sting of fear that Arthur might not want him anymore.

Arthur knows. They’ve had these conversations. Slow and disjointed with many unfinished sentences and equally many carelessly finished ones, many sharp edges that leave marks and bruises on them. In bright daylight, shouted too harshly across an eternal stretch of living room, space between that they’ve shared that seems broken now. In the dark, spoken against a pillow wet with tears. In the afterglow of magnificent sex, murmured against Arthur’s neck, still out of breath. Unsaid, in the kisses Arthur trails along Merlin’s collarbones. Arthur knows. 

“I’ll love you forever, whatever happens,” Arthur had said once, breathless after a particularly difficult fight with no shouts or things thrown across the room, just harsh words ill considered and the heart-wrenching agony of watching the pain on Merlin’s face, knowing he put it there. “Everybody has their stuff, right? We can deal with ours. I’ll love you forever, no matter what.”

He thinks about that. He looks at Merlin, every shadow on his face more pronounced. He’s tired with bags under his eyes that Arthur had not noticed until now. His lips are dry and chapped, his fingernails thoroughly bitten and the skin around them angry and torn. Arthur lets his gaze follow every curve of that face he knows so well, looking foreign in the strange light with all the secrets well kept weighing on it now, but it’s undeniably the same face that he has loved for so long. 

“Merlin,” Arthur says, and he hopes that Merlin understands. He knows he sounds like he’s about to cry but he doesn’t care, this is more important. “Merlin. I’ll love you forever. No matter what. You remember that, right?”

Something about Merlin melts, like he’s been holding his breath, like he’s been keeping his distance, and suddenly the fear is not behind a barrier anymore, held away from Arthur by force, but relief washes over it and Merlin kicks the chair over in his hurry to stumble over to Arthur’s side of the table and the candle flickers off in the resulting wind but Merlin doesn’t even look that way like he’d _sensed_ it was gone, just flicks his fingers in its direction and his eyes go gold for a moment and the candle is back to burning merrily as though that was never not the case and even though he doesn’t really understand how magic works at all Arthur thinks to himself, _of course it’s fire, how could it be anything else_. When Merlin stumbles over him Arthur catches him and by the time they are upright, holding each other tight never to let go, they are both crying.

Gwaine has slipped out of the room. Arthur’s not sure when that happened, probably after he came to the conclusion that Arthur is not someone Merlin needs to be protected from, but he’s happy they’re alone now.

“I’m sorry,” Merlin whispers against Arthur’s neck. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I didn’t want to put you in that position.”

And that makes Arthur laugh out loud because it’s so ridiculous, that of all things that’s what Merlin would worry about, but then again of course he would because he is _Merlin_ and that is the kind of thing Merlin would worry about.

It’s okay, he knows. They will be okay. His Merlin is the same person he’s always been. 

They make tea and take it with them to the living room. With a flick of his fingers and another flash of gold Merlin creates a floating ball of light blue flames that don’t feel hot or cold to Arthur’s touch, just friendly. It flails about Arthur like a friendly puppy who can’t get enough love until Merlin frowns and it calms down and settles in the air between them, illuminating Merlin’s face with an eerie glow.

“I have a lot of explaining to do,” Merlin says, sitting cross-legged on the sofa with a steaming cup of tea in his hands. 

“I think so,” says Arthur. 

He sits down on the floor next to Merlin and rests his head on his thigh. Because he can. And he feels a bit strange and lonely and soppy and a lot like he doesn’t know what his life is anymore and Merlin can usually help him with that. Merlin puts down his cup of tea with a sigh and buries his fingers in Arthur’s hair. Arthur thinks about what his father would think if he found out his son was dating a magic user. What he would say. What he would do. Arthur shivers. The glow of the magical orb feels like Merlin and it’s like home to him now, everything Merlin is, and he doesn’t care about his father or his oppressive politics and that is why he walked away from him and to Merlin’s arms, a double offence as it turns out. Just his luck, falling for a boy who could burn down the world with a snap of his fingers if he were so inclined. And then again, yeah, lucky. Because if it wasn’t for Merlin, where would he be? Nodding along to Uther’s yes-men, shaping his own career in politics in the likeness of his father’s, doing what he is told like he always had, careful not to disappoint, careful not to step out of line. So yes, he is lucky that his heart stepped out of line, pulled him away from his oppressive life and straight into Merlin’s arms to learn to be a better person.

He is still learning, but he likes to think he has changed in these last six years of his life. Become better. More like someone who might deserve Merlin’s love.

“Alright, Art?” Merlin’s voice and a gentle tug on a tuft of his hair break through Arthur’s spiralling thoughts.

“Uh, yeah,” he says. “My mind wandered.”

“Yeah, I can tell. You look all pensive.”

Arthur doesn’t even attempt to insist otherwise. He is feeling pensive. Insecure, too, and a bit scared, and he doesn’t really know what the world is doing around him. He should let Merlin explain.

“Sorry,” he says. “I’m listening.”

“It’s alright.”

“No, I want to know.”

Merlin sighs. “Don’t think it’s easy for me, either. I’ve been keeping secrets for a long time. It’s exhausting.”

“I’m glad you told me.”

“Oh, this isn’t half of it yet, love,” Merlin says, and he sounds like he wants to laugh and cry both at once and his voice cracks and his hands shake a bit like he’s not sure how far he can take this before Arthur runs away from him.

Arthur is not going to run away. He’s decided that much. Come hell or high water. In sickness and in health. They’ve never said any vows but that hardly matters. It wouldn’t change anything, not really.

“Go on, then,” Arthur says. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Oh, Arthur,” Merlin whispers. “I think you’re better at words than you think you are.”

He presses a kiss on top of Arthur’s head, takes a deep breath, and starts talking.

It’s a long night, and they don’t sleep. There is too much to say and they can’t stop talking now that they finally can, all the facts right there, nothing to hide anymore. It’s a long road to talking about what happened that night, what’s going on in the world around them, because the first questions Arthur asks and the first ones Merlin answers all have to do with them. With Merlin, and how they got this far without Arthur knowing. All the lies Merlin had to tell him to keep his secret. The lies he has been telling all his life to everyone around him. And all the times that wasn’t enough.

They hold onto each other and let the tea go cold. The words run out at some point and Arthur knows he needs to ask about this. About what is going on now. About what brought all of this on and what happened to the electricity, and about that boat on the river and the figure disappearing belowdecks. The way the entire city feels different now, has a metallic scent of imminent threat wrapped all around it. A nameless fear in those who know, Merlin and probably Gwaine, too.

“They hate me because they hate you and I chose you,” Merlin says first, sounding a bit like he’s trying to rip off the plaster and work through the rest afterwards.

“Who do what now and why?” Arthur says. He is in a bubble far from reality, finds it hard to care about the outside world pressed against Merlin, breathing in his scent, heart full of feelings all sorts that they’ve bounced between them for hours in the ghostly glow of the blue orb of light hovering over them. 

“Right, I should probably not start there,” Merlin says, chewing his lip like he does when he’s thinking. “But you know now. So listen to the rest in the light of that because I really don’t want to repeat what I just said.”

“Right.” 

“I’m not exactly friendly with all magic users ever. There are issues. People disagree. Funnily enough, political hot topics about our rights are something we care about too, and not everyone wants to go about achieving rights for magic users in the same way as I do.”

“What,” Arthur says, trying to blink away his bone-deep exhaustion. “I’m not following. Same as you do? Do we care?”

“We really do,” Merlin says. “We want the end of institutionalised discrimination. We don’t want magical supremacy. Except some of us do want that. Eye for an eye. Let’s do unto them what they first did unto us. Let them taste their own medicine. The sort of thing that will not lead to anything but more death and misery and injustice.”

“Death?”

“Yeah, it’s been bad. They’ve managed to keep most of it covered up but the damage is getting too substantial, they care less and less about who knows, they want to know they’re after anyone who is not with them.”

As they sit on the sofa holding each other and Merlin talks quietly, nervously, Arthur finds out about things. Like that there are people out there who want to kill his father (not news), people who want to kill him and also Merlin because Merlin chose him and that is the wrong choice (this is news but, in retrospect, it probably shouldn’t have been). Merlin looks at him with earnest eyes and says it is the only choice he could have made and that he has no loyalty for any kind of community and he doesn’t care about his people because he only cares about Arthur and it sounds fucking insane but it is also something like the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to Arthur so he cries and holds onto Merlin and wonders what all of this means. 

Basically, it means there are people right here in this city who are out to kill them. Arthur is not as worried about that as he probably should be. He pulls Merlin closer and wonders what he would do if they heard explosions right now. He wonders if they should do something now, run somewhere or escape from some nameless threat that is all too real to Merlin, but he doesn’t really feel like moving now. He doesn’t want to let go of Merlin who is clinging to his shirt with sweaty fingers a bit like he’s scared that Arthur will just slip away if he lets go. Arthur just presses closer and inhales the familiar scent of Merlin’s skin and wonders how long this peace will last. In the eerie glow of the blue orb of light, wrapped around each other’s body heat on the worn old couch in the freezing cold room with drafty windows and no heating it almost feels like they are suspended in time, caught in a bubble outside reality just the two of them with some time to breathe each other in, to revel in love. It’s been a long night, and the sun won’t be down for much longer.

Arthur falls asleep listening to Merlin breathe.

He wakes up with a start because of something that happens in his dream. The moment he is awake he can’t remember what it was but his heart is still hammering like after a run, his skin breaking in cold sweat. Grey daylight is seeping in through the dusty windows, empty black branches of trees scratching the glass and bending under the wind that creeps in through the window frame and around him all the way to his bones. He is alone. For a moment he can’t breathe until he hears noises from the kitchen, a cupboard door banging shut, clinking of a spoon against crockery, soft thuds of walking on floorboards with no shoes on.

Arthur gets up and goes to the kitchen. He can’t bear to be alone. Merlin is sitting at the table with a cup of tea in his hands, staring at it with a wistful look on his face. He doesn’t notice Arthur until he sits down opposite him, like they were sitting when Merlin first told him about all that. The magic. Arthur needs to learn how to use the actual word. His boyfriend is a magic user. A sorcerer. Actually.

He’s surprisingly okay with that. 

Merlin looks up at him and the worry lines between his eyebrows melt away with a small smile, the one that Arthur likes to think is reserved only for him. 

“Hi,” he says, sounding fond.

“Hi,” says Arthur and slides his foot up Merlin’s calf and then back down to rest against him. He smiles at Merlin and can’t quite stop. They’re hiding in a dingy flat with no electricity somewhere at the edge of town and there are people out there that want to kill them both, but Arthur doesn’t really care. He’s happy. His heart feels lighter, maybe because of all the talking and all the crying and the way they stayed up all night holding onto each other. He doesn’t feel alone, he feels like nothing can hurt him.

“So,” he says, his voice light trying to wipe away the dark shadows under Merlin’s eyes, the gauntness of his face, every shadow more pronounced than usually. “What can you do? Fire?”

Merlin blushes faintly, looks at his tea again, looking a bit pleased that Arthur is asking.

“Yeah,” he says. “Fire. And… Other stuff. Fire is easiest, though. It’s like breathing. An extension of me. Any kind of fire, everywhere. I don’t know why. But there is other stuff.”

Arthur is a bit scared but in a good way like when Merlin stalks in the bedroom and pulls his shirt off with a predatory smirk on his face, eyes glinting, looking at Arthur spread over the bed for his amusement and Arthur doesn’t know what he’s going to do exactly but it will be so good and he will love it. 

“What kind of stuff?” he asks and tries to bring his mind back to now. 

He is horny, though. Out of nowhere. Weirdly enough he hadn’t even thought of sex last night, not even a little, although he is the randiest bastard ever to have grazed Merlin’s bed with his presence (Merlin’s words, not his, although he has to admit that’s probably true). Neither of them had, but in the daylight things seem a bit easier and he feels light and in love and it’s so very difficult to be scared of anything now. He wants to know what his beautiful Merlin can do with his eyes that glow gold and fingers that spin fire out of thin air, and then he wants to have sex with him. First things first, though, although he can’t quite stop himself from playing footsie with Merlin under the table, Merlin looking serious but the tips of his ears reddening as they do sometimes when there are emotions, and Arthur slides his foot up Merlin’s leg all the way to push firmly against his crotch with his toes and Merlin bites his lip and grins as he stares at Arthur through his lashes. 

“Do you wanna know what I can do or not?” Merlin asks in a low voice. Arthur almost says _nah not really you can tell me later, now how about I suck your cock?_ but he really does want to know so he smiles sheepishly and retracts his foot - slowly - and looks at Merlin with his best puppy eyes.

“Yeah, sorry. Go on, love.”

Merlin smiles, bites his lip again, looks at his hand for a bit like he’s thinking, and then shakes his head, looks at Arthur and just shows him. 

He builds a dragon out of embers he creates out of nothing and scatters the image with a snap of his fingers, and the embers turn into butterflies that vanish with a puff of air when Arthur tries to catch them. He reaches for Arthur and makes the air around them embrace him, gives his love and his power to Arthur and then pulls the sensation back except that the sentiment remains. He fills the room with blue light and then pulls darkness over them like a comforting blanket that is only them and relieves Arthur of his jumper with nothing but a smirk and that flash of gold in his eyes that makes him look like a God of some sort. He closes his eyes and breathes in and the world holds its breath around them and although there is nobody in the room but them Arthur knows that impossibly, everything in the world has ground to a halt around them, every thing, living and lifeless, waiting in stillness for Merlin to let the world turn again, and he watches Merlin in his golden glow his hair askew the same awkward gawky boy he always knew as he is the very picture of power and grace in front of him, close enough to touch. It is just them in the most ordinary kitchen enfolded in extraordinary magic until Merlin smiles and blinks and everything is back to normal again, and Arthur can’t help but kiss him.

“You’re amazing,” he says, and then two seconds later, “that’s one hell of a party trick.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty cool,” Merlin says with a smile. “Not exactly usual, either. Not everyone can hold back time, it turns out.”

“Yeah, didn’t think so.” 

The moment of magical alternate reality of nothing to worry about and everything to love has passed and everything is serious again and Arthur thinks about the implications of all of this and what it might mean for him now, what it will inevitably mean sooner or later because the world does not work like he wants. Ever. What he wants is to hide Merlin from the others, just stay outside everything else, just them. Just for a bit, please, before everything goes to shit.

Arthur clings to Merlin and breathes in his scent and whispers against his neck, “I don’t want to live in the real world.”

“I know,” Merlin says, oddly choked up (or maybe not that odd, after all it’s been an eternity since they were walking by the river and watched the whole city go dark). 

“Fuck everything.”

“Yeah.” Merlin sniffs and says, “Gwaine’s gone, I sent him on an errand.”

“Yeah?” says Arthur. “What sort of an errand?”

“I said I urgently needed him to fuck the fuck off. I have a man to seduce.”

“My favourite kind of errand.”

“I thought so.”

Arthur smiles against Merlin’s neck. He loves him. He might want to marry him. No, scratch that, he obviously wants to marry Merlin and stay with him forever and ever and be happy and adorable as they are. There’s a new, desperate edge to these dreams now, born from the knowledge that it’s not over, not even almost, that they still have a giant to slay. A new one, a bigger one that he didn’t even know was there even though he was leaning against its foot all this time. Strange how that goes.

“We should get married,” Arthur mutters.

“What was that?”

Arthur knows perfectly well Merlin’s heard exactly what he said but Merlin is not the type to let Arthur get away with half-arsed anything, and this is no exception. Arthur doesn’t want to be romantic, he abhors grand gestures and declarations of love, but sometimes Merlin does this _thing_ where he smirks impishly and says something that makes Arthur horny and frustrated and provokes him to do something he wouldn’t usually do that Merlin thinks is a bit wonderful just because. Because stupid Merlin pushed him, because he would do anything for Merlin.

“I said, we should get married,” Arthur says. He turns to look Merlin in the eye, knows he’s blushing and probably looks a bit slow and a bit lost, but Merlin likes that for some reason and he’s smiling even now, watching Arthur like he’s the best thing there is. It’s encouraging. “Don’t you think?”

“Are you proposing to me, Arthur Pendragon?” Merlin says with a smile.

“Yeah. Obviously.” Arthur hopes it’s not completely obvious how embarrassed he is, but Merlin knows him too well. Maybe that’s good, though, because Merlin takes a look at his flushed cheeks and tight jaw and kisses him on the nose with a chuckle.

“Well okay then,” he says. “Might as well.”

The kiss that follows is so thoroughly earth-shattering that Arthur swears to himself he will cause a riot if Merlin doesn’t put out.

He needn’t have worried. Merlin can be a horrible tease but he cannot be accused of ever not following through, and Arthur generally doesn’t have much to complain about.

They get momentarily distracted from any official, serious business because of a celebratory engagement shag that may or may not occur, and they feel completely justified. It’s surprisingly tender, Merlin whispering against Arthur’s neck _I wanted to, I wanted to ask you for so long but you didn’t know and I couldn’t_ and Arthur holding him tight as he finds a rhythm to his breathing again. 

It’s beautiful, pretending the world stops for you to be in love, at peace. It doesn’t, of course, but everything else feels so distant it might as well not even be real. And then Merlin’s phone rings and their sweaty happy post-coital _oh my god engaged_ bliss breaks into a million pieces and Arthur remembers like he’s been punched that there is a “they” out there somewhere and that it’s not a good thing.

“You should probably put some clothes on,” Merlin says before he picks up the phone. “I have this sinking feeling.”

Arthur raises an eyebrow but Merlin doesn’t specify. He picks up the phone without a word and as he listens to whoever it is at the other end, his face gradually falls. He hangs up without a word, frowns at nothing specific, and then slips out of bed and starts getting dressed.

“Yeah, like I said. We kind of have to go,” he mutters, and Arthur decides that he’d rather be with Merlin when he leaves the building storming off towards whatever deadly horrors and ask any questions he might have later on, when they’re walking, in their next hiding spot, yes, he’d do any of that rather than stay behind, wondering. Now, or ever.

They hastily pack the essentials, steal a few cans of baked beans and bottles of water from the kitchen, and Merlin doesn’t stop to leave a note for Gwaine or anyone else, doesn’t stop to look behind. The house is empty except for them, like nobody was ever even there, and if Arthur thinks it’s strange how well Gwaine has cleaned after himself, he doesn’t pay any particular mind to it. The door fades to nothing behind them both in his mind and in the wall even in bright grey daylight, and they take off down a muddy path jumping over plastic bags and empty cans, their fingers slotted tightly together. The weather is what you would expect, horizontal wind and naked branches and some sort of a feeble attempt at rain that doesn’t really do anything except get you annoyed. Arthur runs his fingers over a graffiti on the crumbling brick wall behind the bins. _Always have your mask handy._ He wonders if they’re just meant to intimidate, some kind of hilarious joke maybe, put there by some paranoid crazy people, or if it’s just that he still doesn’t understand anything about the depths of this conflict, where it might take them, what it might mean. 

Merlin glances at him, bites his lip, and hastily tugs a gas mask from his backpack, one of those ones you can get from an army surplus store for twenty quid, and hands it to Arthur with a raised eyebrow. Arthur takes it, his pulse quickening, a sickening cold of understanding, once again, how much he still doesn’t understand, and shoves it in his own bag without making a scene. 

He takes Merlin’s hand again, almost feels the metal of the engagement ring that isn’t there yet cold against his skin. They take of running, or as close to it as they can in the slippery mud and sloshing puddles. The sky rips open with a rumble and Merlin grunts in displeasure as it starts pouring down rain, but there is no time for them to stop. 

The lone yellow streetlamp in their field of vision flickers on and off again. Merlin swears, looks at Arthur to make sure he’s still there, still on his feet, still with most of his brain cells functioning. Arthur is scared, but he’s okay. It’s cold and water is dripping down the front of his hood on his face, down his nose, under his collar, but he squeezes Merlin’s hand and jumps over a puddle and doesn’t slip and his socks are dry in his Doc Martens, and at least they are together.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I wrote a proposal in my fic. I am finding the treacherous path of happiness. What can I say.


End file.
